


Messy

by opaliteangel



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluffy Ending, Gen, Misunderstandings, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 15:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opaliteangel/pseuds/opaliteangel
Summary: Noctis can't clean to save his life. Ignis has a concerned-mom-on-WebMD moment. Home economics is presumably not a mandatory subject in Lucian schools.





	Messy

**Author's Note:**

> For this kink meme prompt:  
> Ignis assumes teen!Noct is depressed  
> https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=10326667#cmt10326667

With a sigh, Noctis surveyed his living room. All of the trash was in bags and piles, as neat as he could get it. His dirty dishes were sitting in the dishwasher, as organized as he could get them. Nothing was anywhere near as nice as when Ignis came by and cleaned for him, but it would have to be enough for Prompto. At the very least, he was proud that he seemed to be getting the hang of trash bags. And if he kept at it he might figure out how to make the dishwasher actually _wash the dishes_. For now, they would probably wind up ordering pizza and eating it on paper plates. Not that that was a bad thing. Or out of the ordinary at all. Takeout and ramen made up the vast majority of Noctis’ diet if no one else was cooking for him, and Ignis wasn't coming over tonight.

He took another unsatisfied look around the room before trudging over to the shower. Cleaning could really work up a sweat.

-

“Shit. Can I borrow a shirt?” Prompto asked, having just spilled soda all over his. Not his fault that this game used cheap jumpscares. Or that there wasn't anywhere for him to put his drink except for in his lap, because the table was covered in dozens of miscellaneous papers that seemed to be politically important (and possibly confidential). Not that Noct would care, but Prompto tried his hardest to stay on Ignis’ good side.

“Sure, yeah,” Noct said, pausing the game and standing up. Prompto tried in vain to wipe the soda off of him with a wad of napkins, but he knew the skin under his shirt was going to be sticky and gross until he got home and showered.

Noct came out of his bedroom (which, from the sliver that was visible through the door, looked even worse than the living room) and threw an old King's Knight shirt at Prompto. Prompto, who had been using his saliva to try and get rid of the stickiness on his skin, wound up getting hit in the face with it. He scrunched up his nose.

“Dude, are you sure this is clean? It stinks.”

Noct had a weirdly self-conscious expression when Prompto looked up. “Toss it back, I'll grab a different one.”

-

As he retreated back into his room, Noctis sniffed the shirt he had given Prompto. He was sure it wasn't dirty--he had _washed_ it. Sure, it didn't have the same floral smell as when Ignis did his laundry for him. But it didn't smell like sweat or anything. And there weren't any stains. It just had an odd sort of...funk to it. He dug through his laundry, smelling his shirts and trying to find one that didn't have the same smell. Everything from his own attempts at doing laundry was excluded, but eventually he found a shirt in the back of a drawer that was left over from the last time Ignis had visited. He grabbed that one and brought it out to Prompto.

-

`**Prompto:** hey igs u shld prob visit noct soon`

`**Prompto:** his apt is kinda gross again`

`**Prompto:** & i don't think he's read the stuff u've been giving him`

`**Prompto:** but u didn't hear that from me`

Ignis frowned at the messages Prompto had sent him. Noct had promised after the last time he'd come by that he would try to keep the apartment clean on his own. It had seemed genuine at the time.

Nonetheless, he appreciated Prompto’s concern for the prince, and his willingness to seek assistance.

`Thank you, Prompto. I will look into it.`

-

To Gladio's mild frustration, the music he was listening to was abruptly cut off in favor of his ringtone. He accepted the call without bothering to check who it was.

“ _What._ ” he growled, irritated that someone was interrupting his workout. Not that he couldn't talk on the phone and run at the same time, but he would have much preferred to do it while listening to his music.

Ignis spoke, completely unphased by Gladio's irritable tone. “I'm worried about Noct.”

That put a stutter in his step. “What did he do this time?” Sometimes Ignis worried too much about the brat. But something in his tone made Gladio think this might be something that he should also be concerned about.

“I've been doing some research and...I think that perhaps we've been being too hard on him.” Gladio opened his mouth to object, because Ignis was the polar opposite of _hard on him_ , but Ignis continued before he could speak. “I think it's possible that some of the behaviour that we've been attributing to apathy might be caused by depression”.

 _That_ got his attention.

“Yeah? You wanna elaborate a little bit more on that, Iggy?”

“The clinical term is 'executive dysfunction’. It encompasses...’problems with planning, initiating and completing goal-directed activities’--”

“So, everything.” He wanted to roll his eyes, but then again, Noctis _did_ seem to have a hard time getting _anything_ done.

Ignis was taken aback with his nonchalant reply. “Yes, theoretically. From the personal anecdotes I've been reading, one of the most common ways for it to manifest is with a lack of household cleanliness. He's not--the only other explanation that I've found is hoarding, which seems unlikely, and--”

Gladio snorted. “I get it, okay? I see where you're coming from.”

“We should seek out psychiatric help.” Ignis sounded as outraged as he could while still being polite. “This is not something to be taken lightly.”

“Don't ya think that sending the crown prince to therapy might cause a bit of a scandal?” Not that he agreed with it, but the Lucian crown wasn't in a position to be showing weakness. Anything being wrong with Noct would be something to keep tightly under wraps.

Ignis made a quiet noise of distress. “I'm sure we can find someone discreet.”

“How about you talk to the kid first, and see what _he_ thinks?”

Gladio knew what Ignis would want to say--that trusting Noct to take care of his own health had proven time and time again to be a bad decision. But Ignis kept it quiet.

“Very well. Thank you for your help, Gladiolus.”

All he could do now was have faith that Ignis could handle things. Gladio didn't have much faith in his ability to help with anything as sensitive as this.

-

When he got home from the arcade, Noctis had been hoping to experiment further with the dishwasher. He had managed to run it, once, but when he opened it he had found it full of bubbles and still-dirty dishes. Once he managed to conquer washing dishes, it would mean that he could be of some use when Ignis cooked for him.

Of course he came home to find Ignis already cooking for him instead.

“Hey, Specs,” he said nonchalantly. Ignis nodded in response. Guilt churned in his stomach as he looked around, seeing his apartment completely devoid of trash. Where had it _gone_? Despite his best efforts, Noctis was still unsure of what to do with trash bags once they were full. But Ignis knew. And Prompto's apartment was always clean, so obviously he knew. Noctis had never gotten particularly up-close-and-personal with Gladio's cleaning habits, and he knew they had servants, but he would bet any amount of money that Gladio also knew what to do with the trash.

“Thanks for cleaning, Iggy.” He tried not to let his guilt show on his face. Hadn't he promised to clean for himself? And yet here was Ignis still picking up the slack.

“You're welcome. There’s clean clothes in the dresser, as well.” Noctis was briefly mortified. His clothes had _been_ clean. Sure, they were still sitting in baskets rather than being put away, but had Ignis really thought they were all dirty? How was he bad enough at doing laundry that Prompto and Ignis both seemed to think he wasn't doing it at all?

“Thanks,” he said again, fleeing to his room to ride out the wave of discomfort washing over him. Before he closed the door, Ignis spoke.

“Noct? I'd like to speak with you for a moment.”

It was the same feeling as when his dad would take him aside to scold him, but made all the more embarrassing by the fact that Ignis, his _friend_ , was having to treat him like a naughty child. He turned on his heel. “Yeah? What's up?”

Ignis spoke hesitantly, his eyes remaining locked on the carrot he was chopping. “It has come to my attention that...that you have difficulty keeping tidy.” Which, yes, he was right. Noctis had a lot of trouble trying to clean. “And I hope you'll forgive me for assuming that you were just being lazy.”

Relief flooded him. Ignis was smart. He knew Noctis wasn't just being an ass for the sake of it. They were going to laugh this all off, and Ignis would show him how he was supposed to do laundry, and he wouldn't have to live with giant piles of garbage around him all the time.

“However, I think it would be in your best interest to seek treatment.”

“I...What?” Though he was clearly not an expert, Noctis was pretty sure that there wasn't any _treatment_ that would make him better at chores. That had to have been a joke. Except he couldn't figure out where a pun could have fit into that, so how could it have been a joke? “Treatment for _what_?”

Ignis looked up at him, seemingly prepared for his resistance. “Depression is a very serious illness--”

“You think I'm _depressed_?”

“--there is no shame in seeking help--”

“--should not allow stigma around mental illness to--”

“Ignis!” That was enough to silence him. “I am _not_ depressed. I'm fine!” Even to his own ears it sounded like he was in denial, but really, depression? As much as he appreciated Ignis giving him the benefit of the doubt, that was ridiculous. The idea of his living conditions being unsanitary enough that Ignis thought the only reasonable explanation was him being depressed only served to further the knot of shame and discomfort in his gut.

Ignis stared at him, waiting for an explanation. Noctis stared at the wall behind him, hoping that he hadn't hurt his friend's feelings by shouting. “I just don't know how.”

“You don't know _how_?” There was genuine confusion in his tone.

Noctis looked at him. “I mean, in the palace there were maids doing everything. When would I have learned to use a dishwasher?”

A look of realization came across Ignis’ face. “Oh.”

“I've been trying to clean on my own. But...when I ran the dishwasher nothing actually got cleaned, and when I wash my clothes you guys still think they smell dirty, and I don't know how to deal with any of that. And you guys all just... _know_ these things.” There was something sad in the look that Ignis was giving him. He wasn't trying to make him feel guilty--above all he was grateful that Ignis cared enough to bring it up at all--but of course Ignis would start kicking himself for not figuring it out earlier.

“Can you show me how to do the dishes?”  
-

Taking trash to the dumpster was, Noctis learned, a huge pain. He would still do it. It beat living with giant piles of garbage surrounding him, and he didn't want to imagine Ignis having to haul out a dozen full bags of trash at a time just to clean up after him. But he enlisted Gladio's help the first few times.

Gladio had been relieved when Ignis explained that no, Noctis wasn't depressed. Dealing with the potential bad publicity of Noctis going to therapy would have been worth it for the sake of his health, but he much preferred it not being an issue at all. It was tempting to tease Noctis for not knowing how to take care of himself. It was tempting to tease Noctis about almost anything--it was Gladio's favorite pastime. But that was why the kid hadn't asked for help in the first place. And really, how had they expected him to know any of that? So he kept his mouth shut.

It was amazing how much trash the prince accumulated even when it was being taken out regularly, though. Though he supposed that since he was being asked for help, this must have been allowed to accumulate over some period of time.

“Why the hell do you have so much garbage, anyway?”

Noctis couldn't look at him from behind the overstuffed bag he was carrying, but Gladio could feel an eye roll. “D’you want me to just leave it all over the place again?” he hoisted the bag up and into the dumpster, and Gladio did the same with the two he was carrying.

“I think if you do that, Iggy will really force you into therapy. No excuses left anymore.”

Noctis offered no reaction to that scenario. “Well until I learn how to cook, I'm going to keep having a lot of trash to take out.” Gladio grunted in acknowledgement. Gods only knew how many empty cup noodle containers wound up in his own garbage.

“You’re not actually gonna learn to cook, are you?”

-

Prompto had found the whole misunderstanding to be completely hilarious. Not that it was funny that Noctis didn't know that he had to take his trash to the dumpster, but that he and Ignis had both felt too awkward to talk about it before it had reached that point. “It's like a shitty rom-com,” he had said through a fit of giggles, “everything would have gone a lot better if you just talked to each other.”

Of course, Prompto still came by to teach Noct how to do laundry.

“So normally I would say to sort your clothes by color, but since almost all of yours are black you should just take out anything that isn't and wash that separately,” he said as he pulled a singular white shirt out of Noctis’ hamper. “And then your washing machine is all fancy so just leave it on the normal settings unless Ignis tells you otherwise.”

He wouldn't be able to handle laundry totally independently--a lot of Prompto's advice ended with “if you need help, ask Ignis”--but he could manage on his own outside of major stains or tears. Now he could even fold things to put them away, though Prompto advised just using hangers if he was feeling lazy.

They celebrated by eating pizza on real plates that Noctis had put through the dishwasher himself (after learning from Ignis that dish soap and dishwasher fluid were not interchangeable. And that he had to rinse things first before putting them in the machine). Prompto didn't think pizza necessarily warranted more than a paper towel to eat on, but he wasn't going to discourage Noctis’ pride in his clean dishes.


End file.
